


Nowhere to Go

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: And now for something else...





	1. Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions from a couple of people germinated at long last. Silverfairy22 is mostly to blame. 
> 
> This romps away from canon early in season seven, after Descent some time.

It was a fair guess that there would be something to complicate his life soon, Picard reasoned, as there had been a few weeks of relative monotony. It remained to be seen what that might be. Then he realized that he was starting to think about missions with a sense of doom, and that probably meant it was time to talk to the counselor -- likely she could help him identify the root of the irrational emotions. There had been as many or more successful missions as there had been failures, near misses or luck-of-the-draw success stories. He had no reason to be anticipating any particular outcome over another.

He strode into a lift and as luck would have it, there was Deanna. She smiled at him. "Going home for dinner?"

"Computer, deck seven. Yes, in fact, I have a yen for something spicy."

Deanna smirked at that. She'd been talking about craving spicy foods lately. She looked down at her huge belly, now frowning and holding it as if the baby might fall off.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so. A few contractions off and on today -- they call it Braxton-Hicks, or false labor," she said calmly. "I went in this morning when they started but Beverly sent me back to work. She said I'll know when it's the real thing."

Deanna Troi had announced one staff meeting that she was having a baby, causing general shock -- there was no husband, no father, no alien possession, she said. Just a visit to Betazed for some leave, and while there she'd gone to a clinic to be artificially inseminated. It was a girl by design because the Fifth House was passed from daughter to daughter, and she had upon further questioning by her friends confessed that she wanted children and was sick and tired of waiting around for someone to volunteer to be a co-parent. And then the betting pools and the long wait began. It was now nine months, one week, two days and counting, and little Morinda Troi was almost eight pounds, four ounces, and taking up most of her mother's abdominal cavity. 

Picard had long ago stopped eyeing pregnant women as if they were a bomb about to go off. He had watched her body change along with the rest of the crew throughout the last four months especially -- she snacked through meetings, waddled through corridors and cheerfully fended off nosy questions while continuing to do her job.

The only real issue had been that somewhere in the first couple months of gestation, Will's attitude toward Deanna had cooled significantly. Picard had wondered but never felt it was his place to ask -- he suspected Will felt something for her and hadn't been given an opportunity, and then he'd attempted to talk to her about it and been rebuffed. Everyone but Will and Worf had been showing excited interest in her impending motherhood. Data had been researching babysitting techniques. Beverly was talking about being an auntie with great glee, and had thrown a baby shower. Geordi was more subdued in his enthusiasm but had as a shower gift assured her of his willingness to babysit as often as she needed, had gone so far as to work out arrangements with some of the engineering staff so there would be coverage in his department and several willing pinch hitters to babysit in the event of a crisis. Picard had relied on Beverly's judgment in the matter of a gift, and so had ended up giving her a set of clothing for infant through six months, which Deanna had received with a happy smile, so he didn't feel too terrible about not choosing it himself.

The lift door opened on deck seven, and he stepped out. When she followed it wasn't surprising, as she was several suites down the corridor from him. Most of the senior officers were on deck seven.

"You said your mother was coming to be present for the birth?" he said conversationally.

"Yes. She will be meeting us at the starbase in a week." Deanna waddled alongside him holding her sides and looking pained. It happened a lot, in the past couple of months. When asked she'd told him Morry was showing promise of a great career in karate. 

"I wonder if Will wouldn't mind taking command while I take a few weeks off," he said, deadpan as he could make it.

He expected her to laugh, as surely she would recognize he was joking. But she was pregnant, and sometimes things she would normally smile at seemed to hit her wrong. She gave him a startled, dismayed look that brought him to a halt.

"I'm sorry, I was kidding," he said.

Deanna blinked away moisture that was gathering in her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry, that I'm so sensitive. I'm having a difficult time -- " And then she really was crying. She turned and started to walk again, trying to flee.

This was the first sign of real trouble that he'd seen, and it was upsetting to behold. "Deanna," he called out. When she turned back slightly he realized he had no idea what to say. Fumbling, he gestured with both hands toward her. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I was wondering -- no. Thank you, Captain," she said with uneven, tear-laden distress that left him wanting to rescue her. 

"What were you going to say?"

But she hurried forward, more tears flowing, shaking her head. "I need to go."

"Come have some tea."

To his surprise that was enough. She stopped, almost turned back, wavered, and glanced at him as if sizing him up to see if he meant it. He gestured at his door. She seemed to struggle with herself with every step but came back and let him usher her into his quarters. He saw her seated and brought a tea service over for them. Chamomile, because he suspected her digestive issues were continuing; she wasn't prone to showing her distress or complaining about it but she had been excusing herself and taking half days here and there, and Beverly had mentioned ongoing difficulties were common with pregnancy.

Once they were seated with cups in hand, she seemed calmer. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip.

"I was thinking that I need to come back to counseling." Well, that was not exactly what he wanted to talk about -- he'd intended to find out if there was something going on that she actually needed help with. But he was nervous now and going back to something very familiar and structured, like duty, was probably a result of his desire to avoid anxiety. "But I'm having second thoughts," he added, regarding her with serious concern.

"I understand," she said, sadly dropping her gaze. "I wouldn't want to take maternity leave and end counseling prematurely."

"I was serious about wanting to help. Because you appear to need it, and because I think of you as a friend -- and I owe you my life several times over, remember. Without you I doubt I would have been half so coherent and sane, after being assimilated and tortured."

She was crying again, but this time she smiled -- even laughed a little. Then her expression crumpled in on itself and went back to sad. "I'm just having the usual hormones and fighting my crazy mood swings. But I appreciate that, more than you know."

"So there's nothing you need? I was sure you were about to say something in the corridor."

"You're all such good friends. You've all been so supportive. My mother will be with me for the birth, unless for some reason Morry decides to come early, and even if she does I'll manage."

That was enough of a clue. "You were going to ask me to be there?"

It was obvious just how emotional she was, that she was startled by his guess. It led to her gaping and being unable to look him in the eye. "I wasn't thinking. I know you wouldn't be comfortable doing that sort of thing," she murmured, sounding defeated.

He thought about how he had survived two births -- granted, it was all a probe-induced hallucination, but he was sure the birthing process was more or less the same on Kataan as it was on Earth, or Betazed. Taking a breath, he tried to find a way to say it without sounding ridiculous, or intrusive. "You aren't going to have a husband with you. But you clearly feel you need someone -- I'm honored that you thought of me, Deanna. I certainly wouldn't have expected that. If I can be there I will be."

She dropped her tea. Fortunately the cup wasn't breakable, but it bounced on the carpet and tea went all over her feet. Yelping, she cried some more -- apologized profusely.

"It's only tea," he said, amused and trying to catch her hands to keep her from trying to mop it up. He leaned to do so himself, picking up the cup and requesting something from the replicator, going to fetch the towel, shoving aside the table and wiping at the carpet. He glanced up at her, sitting there on the couch watching him with an expression of dismay, and got up from the floor to sit on the edge of the couch next to her again.

"I'm not feeling so well, I should go," she said softly.

"You should let us know if you need anything. Even if it's just someone to sit with you -- it seems to me that you're not wanting to do this alone, but that you're almost determined to, but you have friends. You don't have to do this by yourself."

She tried very hard not to cry, her lip quivering. Finally she said, "I should have gone home to Betazed to do this. What I'm struggling with -- "

He thought he understood, and decided to take the risk. She was clearly hesitating to tell him herself. "You didn't expect Will to react as he did. Is he still giving you difficulties?"

Her eyes were like flint when she was angry, though there was more anguish than anger after a few seconds. "Has he been talking to you about it?"

"Not at all. It's fairly obvious that he's upset with you. No one said anything, but I'm sure we all noticed that he didn't get you anything or come to the baby shower. Beverly's been muttering about talking to him about it -- I may just ask her to, since it's clearly affecting both of you more than either of you want to admit. Of all the things to disrupt relationships between the senior staff."

"I should have left," she muttered, talking to herself.

"You've lost objectivity in this matter," he said. It got her attention -- her head came up almost defiantly at the suggestion. "It isn't like him to be this way, is it?"

"Why -- " She gaped at him for a few seconds. He understood why. It wasn't like him, to comment. Not like him at all to intrude. But he knew, because Beverly was commenting to that effect, that Deanna was not talking openly about the situation to her good friend the doctor. And being estranged from Will likely meant she wasn't talking to anyone at all about it.

"Why do I want to help a friend, who did so much to help me? I admit that I question my own sanity in this matter. Being neither a counselor nor an obstetrician, I am venturing far from my realm of expertise." He gave her a wincing, self-deprecating smile. "It could easily be that my motives could be misconstrued. But it seems to me that you would be less likely to push me off, just out of curiosity to see whether I'll actually show up for the baby's birth, or hide under my bed. And someone has to step in. You're in distress, that's obvious to all of us, you know."

She bowed her head and in a few seconds her frown changed slowly to a smile -- she seemed to be fighting it. "Will surprised me by offering to be there for me. He said I shouldn't go through this alone -- he knows Mother is more of a challenge than a support to me."

"As does anyone who spent five minutes with you and your Mother, in the same room."

Another grin flitted across her face. "Yes. I'm torn about having her here. I wish I could go back to when I decided to have a child and choose differently, it would make everything easier, to not have my former fiancé in front of me wanting to -- it's complicated," she blurted, clearly not wanting to overshare about his first officer.

"The power of old ties and old dreams," he murmured. "But he should accept that you aren't interested at some point. He surely can't hold a grudge."

Deanna was looking tired, and sad again. She stared at the table likely without seeing it.

"Do you want more tea? Something else?"

It broke her train of thought. She glanced at him and her arms went around her belly. "I should go take the nap I was going to have, and eat something. Thank you -- I appreciate everything. I want to talk to Will in the morning, try to settle the matter with him and get things back to normal on duty."

"And you'll let me know if you want me to help you with anything?"

At least this time her smile was the happy, affectionate one she usually gave him. "Yes. Thank you for being a good friend. I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched her scoot forward, put her hands on either side of her on the edge of the couch, and lever herself up to her feet -- he stood with her, ready to offer a hand, but she nodded to herself and glanced again at him with a smile, and left at her slow waddle. Once the door had closed behind her, he sighed.

This was the problem with being close friends with other officers. He wondered whether addressing the matter with Will might help or hurt her. He decided there hadn't been much interference with duty, simply a tension in the room sometimes in the occasional staff meeting, and that watching and waiting was his best option. It was between Will and Deanna after all.

 


	2. Interruption

Picard got the orders in his ready room -- Admiral Chisholm was clear in his instructions and it was looking as though their trip to the starbase would be delayed. He rose from the chair as the channel was terminated, tugged his uniform straight unnecessarily, and went out to the bridge.

"Lieutenant," he said, striding up to the helm. "Change course -- the Reychellis system, warp factor six."

"Sir?" Will asked, as Picard turned to take his seat.

"We're to investigate the lack of contact with a Federation vessel in that system -- the _Nova_ was conducting a survey in the region and dropping off supplies to a research station. Command attempted to contact them without success." He sat down stiffly and glanced at the helm.

"Course plotted, sir," Lieutenant Magnus exclaimed.

"Engage."

After the ship was on course and moving at warp six, Will turned to him again. "Deanna's mother will be beside herself," he muttered.

"It can't be helped. She'll understand." Picard glanced at Will's face. It would take at least five hours to get to the Reychellis system, he thought. He wondered if Deanna had already talked to Will; he didn't seem perturbed this morning. "Captain Boritz was a classmate of yours, I believe?"

"Cadet Boring? I didn't realize he'd been promoted to captain," Will exclaimed with a grin. "Mike wasn't even interested in command. Wonder what happened there?"

"Sometimes we surprise ourselves, Number One. The _Nova_ is a science vessel -- they usually are assigned to detailed surveys of systems prior to colonization. But the Reychellis system is just our side of the Demilitarized Zone, and Admiral Chisholm suspects that they might have run afoul of Cardassians."

"Mike wasn't one for diplomatic acumen, I think. You looked him up?"

"I did. Nothing unusual about him -- he made steady progress through the ranks, had the _Nova_ for the past two years. The ship itself is a modified Oberth class."

Will slumped back in his chair and thought about this for a bit. Or at least that was what he appeared to be doing. "I should probably go talk to Deanna," he said at last, very quietly.

"Hm?" Picard replied noncommitally.

"Let her know that we won't be picking up her mother on schedule," Will said.

"Ah. Yes."

Will left the bridge. Picard sat watching the stars crossing the viewscreen, thinking about the situation at hand. "Mr. Data," he said at last. "I'll be in my ready room. You have the bridge."

"Aye, sir," Data replied, rising from the ops console. One of the officers at a secondary station came down to ops, the android moved to the center seat, and Picard strode into his ready room, coming to a halt in front of the aquarium. He stared at the lion fish fluttering along the coral.

"Computer. Give me the specifications of the _Nova._ " He wanted to be fully informed going into this situation. Having an understanding of the armaments of the vessel they were looking for might just be helpful, he thought.

He was reviewing the enhanced sensor arrays and complement of labs of the missing vessel when someone rang for admittance. "Come," he said absently, glancing up from the monitor as the door opened. He sat back, completely distracted, as Deanna entered. Her expression was serious.

"Counselor," he exclaimed. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

She took one of the chairs, lowering herself slowly, and smiled -- she'd regained her composure today. But that was her usual. On duty she was always composed. "No, thank you. I understand we've been diverted from our original course. I contacted my mother -- she's furious, but I was able to get her to agree to wait there instead of attempting to find a vessel to bring her out to us. I don't know how long it will be before she reverses that decision, but I did my best."

"I understand completely -- you know I wouldn't blame you if she did hijack a shuttle and show up unannounced." He smiled, and she mirrored the smile with a smirk of her own. "How is Morry today?"

"She's decided that waving her arms around is fun. I wore this dress so her fists wouldn't be so visible." The dark green waistless dress was not her usual style, but the loose folds were concealing.

He almost asked about how the baby might be visible, but it was irrelevant. "How are you today?"

Deanna rubbed her lips together and looked away -- she regained her composure and resumed the pleasant smile. "Better than yesterday. Thank you. I did talk to Will. and I think things will be better now."

"Good. You didn't need that added stress. You have enough on your plate."

She opened her mouth as if about to say something, and looked down at the floor as she reconsidered. "I was thinking about what we discussed, and I decided that you were correct, that I'm feeling as though I need more support and don't have it. I especially feel isolated now that we're unable to get my mother, it's more likely I'll go into labor before she arrives. When I had Ian, I had Data stay with me to hold my hand -- it was comforting to me to have someone who was not at all anxious. I'm going to ask him to be with me for the birth this time as well."

"Excellent," he said with an approving smile. With Data, there could be no implication of anything more than friendship -- she was being practical, looking out for herself, and that made him happy. Still, he was surprised to find that he felt disappointment. Memories of having children had flitted through his dreams last night, and he'd actually eaten breakfast smiling, while thinking about the possibility of a baby girl in his vicinity. Perhaps, he told himself, he needed to think about that some more.

Deanna stared at him with an odd expression. Once again, he realized that he'd come to trust her to the degree that he no longer worried about her ability to sense everything he felt. She shifted a little in the chair; it didn't take long for her to be uncomfortable in the standard issue hard-backed models. "You're disappointed."

"I never told you the entire story of my experiences in Ressik. I kept my experiences with the children to myself -- we focused more on processing the loss of the family I didn't really have. I miss my children and grandchildren. Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent in that induced hallucination."

Her eyes brightened with tears again, but this time it was a response to how he felt as he confessed that to her. "I wondered why you were feeling so nostalgic and even melancholy sometimes over the past few months. I'm reminding you of being a father."

"Data is a good choice for you, for the reason you chose him. You should have someone with you who makes the process easier for you."

She continued to stare wide-eyed at him with an unreadable expression. Dismay? Distress?

"And now you're going to tell me I should be in counseling, because clearly I have issues that I'm needing to talk about, but I think I'll postpone that for now."

Deanna nodded, pressed her lips together in that manner that suggested she wasn't saying something she wanted to say. A wince and suddenly she leaned forward, holding herself.

"Deanna?"

"More of the same. I think breakfast disagreed with me. I'll go to sickbay."

"Would you like me to come with you?"

She gave him another odd look. "I would appreciate that."

When they emerged on the bridge, Will stood up -- he watched them make slow progress up to the turbolift, and go inside. Picard caught a last glimpse of his first officer's puzzled expression as he took a couple steps to see over the edge of tactical, as the door closed. Worf, standing with his back to the lift, didn't even look back at them.

Beverly came out of her office when they entered main sickbay, and calmly did a brief exam. Indigestion was indeed the diagnosis and an injection helped almost immediately. Deanna thanked them and waddled from the room, heading for her office. Beverly watched her go and turned to him.

"She was in my ready room when it started," he said, explaining his presence even though he wasn't certain that was being questioned.

"How do you think she's doing?" Beverly asked. "She only comes in when she's feeling ill. She's still not talking to me."

"We just had to change course to investigate a missing Starfleet vessel -- we won't be meeting her mother as scheduled, so she's more stressed than before."

Beverly nodded, her eyes showing concern. "I think she's going into labor soon, Jean-Luc. That concerns me. She started out so confident and happy. I know being pregnant makes you prone to mood swings and so forth but I think there's something else going on with her -- you know her, you know she's normally not one to hide how she feels with her friends."

It was at that point that Picard recognized what a fine mess this had become. "I'm not as worried about her. I think she will look out for herself just fine."

Beverly gave him an odd look that rivaled the ones he'd gotten from Deanna. "All right," she replied uncertainly.

"I need to get back to the bridge. See you later." He left her there with her confusion and headed for the lift.


	3. Interrogation

The _Enterprise_ searched the second quadrant without success. There were no traces of the _Nova_ yet. Picard stared at the latest report with a frown, until the computer announced someone waiting at the door to the ready room. 

"I have a thought," Will said after he let him in. He strolled across, lifted a leg over the back of a chair, and sat on the other side of the desk. "I contacted the research station and they say they've had no contact with the  _Nova_ , not even a call to say they were on the way. I think we're looking in the wrong places because the ship disappeared before it reached this system. The last contact with Command was a full twenty-two hours before another call was put in -- looking at the course of the vessel, backtracking along it and sweeping for clues might prove helpful."

"There's no hint of a warp signature in the area. So make it so, Number One." He looked askance at Will. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir." But Will's expression remained so carefully formal, with a hint of distress in the eyes, that it was clearly something.

Picard sighed and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Color me unconvinced."

"Nothing duty-related, sir. I'm worried," Will confessed. "I'm not the only one who's concerned about Deanna, either. She just left the bridge again."

"Is there something wrong? or is she merely having the usual indigestion and various aches and pains related to pregnancy?"

Will's brows drew down and inward in consternation. "You aren't worried about her?"

"She's been going to sickbay and her condition has been closely monitored. She seems to have taken care of herself every step of the way, taking breaks and taking leave as she needs them. I wasn't aware that I am obligated to worry when there doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary going on." He gave his first officer a bemused look. "I would almost think this was your child -- you seem incredibly anxious to a degree that I've seen only in new fathers. Mr. O'Brien, for example."

"Well, she's my friend," Will exclaimed defensively. "And since when do you know what's normal for a pregnant woman?"

"I'm an old man with decades of experience -- why be surprised that I know about such things? I listened to Jack go through Beverly's pregnancy with her."

Will blinked at that. After a moment of contemplation, he crossed his arms. "You think she's doing well," he half-asked.

"I think she's anxious. There are things she isn't sharing, but that's her choice -- she knows well enough that we all would help her with anything she requested from us. All she has to do is speak up if she needs help."

Will grimaced, rose from the chair, and nodded. "I'll go give the order to change course, follow the planned course of the _Nova_ backward to search for traces of her."

Picard stared at the closed door for a moment after Will went through it. "Changing course sounds good," he commented before turning to his monitor again.


	4. Implication

"You have the bridge, Mr. Data."

Data gave him a nod, as the lift opened and several of the beta shift officers came out. Picard nodded to them as he passed up to enter the lift. Will was on his heels going in. They both turned to face forward, and Will asked for deck seven. "This is a frustrating one," he commented.

"There have been enough of those, certainly. We'll find them." There had been no sign of the missing vessel yet, after a day of searching. No response to hails, no warp signature, no debris. The next two shifts would continue to search.

"I was thinking of heading to the holodeck -- get some target practice in. Want to come?"

"Tomorrow perhaps. I have a good book waiting for me."

Will departed with a cordial 'good night' when the lift opened and went off down the corridor, while Picard went to the second door on the right and entered his quarters. There was indeed a good book on his end table, but it held no interest. He replicated dinner and sat down to eat stew.

After he recycled the dishes, he considered the book again, then considered Ten Forward. But instead he flopped down on the couch, leaning back and sprawling, staring up at the viewports overhead and thinking again about his imaginary children. He hadn't really thought about them until Deanna's pregnancy started to show, and then for a long time he had tried not to think about them. But since talking to Deanna and being disappointed that he was being replaced as her hand to hold while she had the baby, he kept returning to memories he had set aside so long ago. He knew well that it did him no good to long for something he would never have, by choice and by habit. He knew that after his experience with the Kataan probe was over, and he knew it now.

Except it was difficult to not think about how she had simply chosen to have a child. Granted it was a little different for a man, but there were ways to do it that didn't involve marriage or even a surrogate -- it wasn't unheard of to use an incubator, even for a couple. He remembered so vividly holding Meribor for the first time -- the little bundle of squirming joy, that tiny pooping, burping, farting infant who could scream for four hours nonstop while teething. He groaned, thinking about the way his little girl ran along behind him as he walked the hillsides and helped him collect soil samples. Her smile had never failed to bring him joy. She had been such a wonderful young woman after being a wonderful little girl, making him forget all the diaper changes and screaming fits. Batai as well -- he had felt such pride in those little children he'd had. 

And the grief returned, as he sat there alone in his quarters. Not sharp as it was in the days after being separated from the probe, but still there just the same. The thought that those were never really his children made him feel hollow and sad. Pathetic, really. They only had ever been real to him. He couldn't call them to check on his grandchildren. There were no pictures of them to hang on his wall.

The annunciator sounded loud in the empty room. "Come," he called out, sitting up from his despairing sprawl. 

Deanna, wearing a bright red dress, waddled in. Her hair was down around her shoulders. She looked worried.

"Oh, hell," he blurted.

Her amusement at such a greeting did away with her concerned expression. "You know what I came to ask, then."

"Is it so concerning that I'm sitting here being ridiculous?"

Deanna came over to sit on the edge of the couch, slowly, pulling one of the cushions over to stuff it in the small of her back. "Is that what it was?"

"I chose to be in Starfleet and I'm never going to have children. That I managed to hallucinate a family and now miss them terribly has nothing to do with reality."

Deanna's heavy sigh was one he'd heard before -- that tolerant, yet frustrated sound of someone who knew him too well. "You can choose a different path any time. I did."

"You say that as though I have options," he grumbled, waving a hand in the air. He stopped when he realized that he was talking with his hands just as his father used to do, making sweeping gestures to punctuate his point. "Old washed-up has-been officers only get delusions to keep them company."

He happened to glance at her, which put an end to his rant before it became one. She was crying quietly, giving him that strange look she'd been sending his way lately. It made him uncomfortable -- he forgot what he was going to say and harrumphed instead, slumping again. 

"You believe that," she murmured at length. "How incredibly sad."

"Are you going to tell me that it isn't true?" He was embarrassed, which only made him more belligerent. Recognizing that made him wince. It wasn't fair to her, when she had only ever been concerned about him.

Another sigh. She leaned forward, sat back, and moved forward again with more force to propel herself off the couch. When she was upright she looked down at him with sad eyes. "You shouldn't tell yourself things like that."

"Oh, certainly. A cognitive distortion, you'll call it?"

"You're being very irrational. It's not like you."

Rubbing his forehead wearily, he smiled and shrugged. "I'm sorry. I'm out of sorts, and it's not even anything I can do anything about." He stood up along with her and stepped around the table, intending to see her to the door. Obviously she was about to leave him to his misery.

"You could," she chided gently. "You simply don't feel that you can."

He couldn't even respond to that. He held out his hands, feeling helpless and not liking how he was responding to her to this point. She'd seen him worse -- there had been times after the worst of the worst missions when he'd been completely out of his mind.

She stepped around the table, but instead of retreating she came toward him. Close enough that her belly nearly bumped him, and then she reached out to touch his arm. Nothing odd about it as she alone had never shied away from him -- others rarely encroached on his personal space, but she had at times touched his arm or shoulder, or sat close while he struggled through the aftermath of something traumatic.

"I wish that I could help you," she said sadly. "I've thought for some time that you were struggling -- you've been lonely these past few months, and it's now obvious that you are depressed. We were supposed to pick up an interim counselor at the starbase. If only we'd been able to do so. Beverly wants me to start maternity leave now, she doesn't like that I'm having my own symptoms, so I won't be able to do -- "

Without a thought he took her hand. It brought her to a standstill, she stopped speaking and blinked at him. They both stood frozen for a few long moments. He finally let go, and it was as though it freed up the rest of him -- he took a step to his right, slightly away from her, and tried not to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry that I can't -- not feel," he said roughly. "I keep thinking about them. I keep missing the family I never had. I've tried not to, and it's harder now. I regret that it causes you distress."

"You don't need to apologize for your feelings. I understand." There was an amused note in her voice; she'd said it before, hadn't had to for a long time as it was understood after nearly seven years of service on the same vessel they knew each other quite well.

"Thank you for your concern," he managed.

"I won't be on the bridge tomorrow. But I hope you have the time to visit me. I have the feeling I'm going to be feeling very lonely, if everyone's on duty and no one comes over to chat once in a while. I'm so accustomed to spending time on duty with friends that I'll miss you."

He turned to look at her finally. "Yes," he said faintly. "Good night."

She studied him for a few seconds, then turned to waddle out of his quarters, her dress swaying around her legs.

His mind picked away at the conversation, trying to understand how she hadn't objected to his behavior, or been surprised by it. It led to previous conversations and picking those apart as well. And as he remembered the meeting in the corridor when she had almost asked him to be with her for the birth, he closed his eyes, rubbed them, tried to tell himself he shouldn't jump to conclusions about anything.

Why did things have to become this complicated?


	5. Impediments

They finally picked up a warp signature, and started to track it. There were others in the area that Data's analysis indicated were Cardassian vessels.

"Is there any sign of weapons fire?" Will exclaimed. He glanced at Picard with wariness in his eyes.

"No, sir," Data said calmly.

"Number one, a moment?"

Will stood up with him, and nodded to Data, who moved to the center of the bridge while they moved into the ready room. "Sir?" Will asked as they took their seats on either side of the desk.

"I'm thinking this is not what we were afraid of, that the ship is having systems failures and we simply need to find her."

"The lack of evidence of weapon fire seems to support that," Will said.

"Either way, it seems straightforward enough. So I'm taking a few days off," Picard said. "I realize that I've been distracted lately."

Will nodded, for once not looking perturbed or concerned. "I understand. We'll take care of the ship -- no worries, sir."

"I'll be spending some time in the holodeck -- you might join me after your shift, I'll have plenty of time for velocity."

The perturbed expression was back. But despite the hint of a frown, Will said, "Good, looking forward to it."

"Will... is there something -- we agreed, when we came aboard, that we would be open with our concerns."

At that Will focused on the floor between his feet and chewed his lower lip, thinking. "I'm not... it's not exactly duty related. What I'm concerned about."

"Is this about Deanna?"

The quick roll of the eyes confirmed it. "I think she's making a mistake."

"I'm a little confused that you're having difficulty accepting her choice."

Will's stunned wide eyes hinted that perhaps he had miscalculated. "I don't understand you," he exclaimed.

"Me?"

"It's obvious, you've been looking at her for months -- it's obvious that neither of you has really talked to the other about it. She denies and sidesteps like a pro. I told her she should talk to you about it, but she won't admit anything openly despite how obvious it is. I understand your reticence to even discuss it with her because that's not what you -- but surely if it's mutual -- she isn't like Darren, after all, and -- "

"Will," Picard blurted, incredulous. This didn't sound at all to be what he expected.

Will Riker stared with equal incredulity at him for a long, long moment. "You haven't seen it?"

"What the hell are you saying?"

Will rarely gaped at anything -- part of being in Starfleet was getting used to surprises, after all. But his chin dropped and he spent a few seconds with his eyebrows climbing. "Um," he said at last. Glanced around nervously. "I'm not saying anything, sir. Excuse me."

When he recovered from the shock of it, long after Will had gone, Picard left the ready room and then the bridge without a word to anyone. Data shot a startled look at him as he went by at a rapid walk but said nothing.

So it wasn't what he'd thought. Will wasn't wanting Deanna to be with him, he expected her to talk to --

"Shit," Picard blurted, pacing a circle around the lift as it traveled toward deck seven. 

He half expected her to show up to ask why he was so upset. He felt like he might jump out of his skin -- pacing around his quarters, alternately holding his head and wincing or trying to sit only to jump up again and pace some more. "Fuck," he told the empty room. 

So all his concern about destroying friendships or working relationships with officers he trusted and valued were for naught. The only real tension between Will and Deanna had been about his encouraging her to be honest with _him_.

He knew that attempting to talk to her when he was this wound up would not go well. So he went for a walk, rather than continue to go in circles like a wild animal in a cage. Usually the corridors on the lower decks were good for restless thinking. It took him an hour to work his way around deck twenty, and in a turbolift he started for deck twenty four. The decks in between had laboratories and twenty four was cargo and auxiliary systems, so he stood a better chance of empty corridors there. 

The turbolift car changed course, and opened on deck ten instead. Lieutenant O'Brien came in and smiled at him. "Hello, Captain."

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant." He didn't quite glance at her midriff where the pregnancy was just starting to show. "How are you?"

"I'm feeling all right. A little morning sickness, but I'm sure I'll be fine. Dr. Crusher has some medication that helps." Keiko smiled and faced the door. "Computer, deck twelve."

"I understand you've been adding some new herbs to the arboretum," he commented casually. 

"Dr. Crusher said that she wants to offer some cultural remedies -- some of the crew request them for minor complaints like stomach aches or headaches," Keiko said. "I'm happy to help. We're planting some Bolian and Vulcan herbs."

"What about Terran -- chamomile? Or even tea -- black tea, I would welcome some fresh tea leaves."

"It might be hard to get cuttings. But I'll see what I can do," Keiko said as the lift stopped and the door opened again. "Have a good day, sir."

He stared at the closed door, and before he could make a decision, the car started once again to move, horizontally then vertically, back to deck ten only this time near sickbay. Deanna waddled in and stood looking at him with surprised eyes. 

"Everything all right? Computer, deck seven." He surprised himself by sounding absolutely normal.

"Yes. Beverly is now checking me daily for signs of going into labor." She turned in place to face front slowly, again hugging herself. 

He didn't know what to say, and hated that he was likely projecting an astonishing amount of anxiety at her. After a tense moment, he turned to speak to her but suddenly there was a great concussion and he was thrown against the wall of the lift.

He awakened to a splitting headache, and a wet cheek. Pushing himself up slowly, he glanced up at the panels overhead; the lights were dimmer than they were, one of the panels was dark, and the lift was silent and motionless. 

"Computer! Picard to bridge!"

When there was no response, he sighed and turned to find Deanna curled up on the floor and apparently unconscious. The wetness was not blood, as he'd initially expected -- his uniform was wet, and her skirt was also wet. It had to be that her water broke. He sat her up against the side of the lift and saw that she was coming around as well; he probed with his fingers along her head, looking for blood or evidence of fractured bone, found none.

"Deanna, look at me," he ordered as she opened her eyes. It resulted in a good look at her eyes, which widened and started to take in her surroundings. It was difficult in any circumstance to see her pupils but he thought they looked the same size. 

All at once she cried out and drew in on herself, and he knew what that was. Now she was afraid -- panting in the aftermath of the contraction and starting to cry.

"Take a deep breath," he said calmly. "You'll be fine. They have to be working on this already -- the computer will be back online any minute and we can get you to sickbay well before the baby is born."

"What's wrong? Everyone is so anxious," she exclaimed. 

"Doesn't matter. Breathe."

Another contraction -- she screamed, and he grabbed her hands and let her cling while she rode through it. They had to have been unconscious for an extended period of time. They were too close together already. Or, perhaps she was one of those women who had blissfully abbreviated labor?

He made suggestions and reminded her to breathe at regular intervals, calmly, and she stayed propped against the wall with her legs up and knees bent -- she was sweating and crying, and within six contractions she already looked exhausted. "Something's wrong," she burbled anxiously. 

"You're fine. Breathe. Come on, Lieutenant-Commander," he exclaimed, taking her hands as another wince started. This contraction lasted longer than the previous ones. 

"It's taking too long," she moaned as the pain subsided and left her wrung out and leaning against the wall. 

"Not at all. My mother told me she was in labor for fifteen hours when I was born."

Not surprisingly, that didn't help. Deanna scowled and panted and started to brace herself for another one. He thought the bones in his hands might need a regenerator, but let her haul away at him through it just the same as she groaned. 

It went on for a while, and he timed contractions in his head while urging her to breathe -- then something changed. She fairly writhed as the next one pushed a scream out of her. As the pain subsided he moved closer, inching on his aching knees, and held her in his arms. 

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Sorry."

"Breathe."

The pattern then became bouts of sobbing, punctuated by a scream and a contraction. Occasionally, he asked the computer for something and got silence. It became stuffy in the lift -- probably meaning that life support was not working. He stood up slowly, stiff from sitting on the floor too long, and she panicked.

"What is it?"

"I'm just going up here to open the hatch. Let some air in."

"What if there's a hull breach?" she sobbed.

He stuck the toe of his boot in a convenient toe hold on the wall, got high enough to turn and push, and when the hatch popped open relatively-fresh air came in. He listened for a moment on the off chance he could hear something down the tube but there was nothing. Dropping to the floor he took a moment to take off his jacket, pull off the turtleneck, and again sat down with her. 

After another few contractions he noticed her trying to find a better way to sit. "You can lay back if you would feel better. How are you feeling?" He rolled his jacket and put it under her head when she scooted down to lay on her back, moving a little more out of her way. 

"Terrible. I think -- AAAH!" She came up and strained mightily, and her eyes popped open. "Oh God!"

That sounded like something had happened. He scuttled around just in time to catch the baby as it slid out, almost fumbled the slimy little body but managed to pick her up -- he handed her over the edge of Deanna's skirt and placed her on her heaving chest, reaching for the shirt he'd discarded to wrap around the baby. 

"Breathe," he said with a sigh, moving over to lean against the wall next to her. He might have enjoyed watching her meet her new daughter, if he hadn't been so tired himself -- when he closed his eyes he must have fallen asleep. He was awakened a bit later by the weak cry of a newborn. Pushing himself more upright against the wall, he glanced left at Deanna, now sitting up as well. The floor of the lift was a mess. She'd delivered the placenta on schedule, and there was still a puddle of fluid -- likely there were feces in the mix as well. All completely immaterial at the moment. He noted that Deanna had recovered sufficiently to tie off the cord with what was likely a strip of material torn from her own skirt, as it was the same color. She'd somehow cut it already.

Deanna had shoved the shoulder of her dress aside and managed to pull out a breast, and was trying to nurse the baby. She had the baby in a good position but seemed nervous. The baby was fussing and crying, opening and closing her mouth.

"Rub the nipple along her lip -- keep fingers back away from the nipple," he muttered, repeating advice he'd heard given to Eline so long ago. 

"I made a mistake," Deanna said softly. She did as he suggested, and then the baby was no longer crying weakly but pulling steadily on her mother's nipple.

"You learn to accept that mistakes happen more than we want them to," he said wearily.

She was silent for a while. He noticed some time later that the baby had stopped feeding and gone to sleep, and then Deanna started to slip a little as she'd fallen asleep. Turning, he took the baby, wrapped her a little more snugly in his shirt, and held Morry in his arms while her mother took a nap. He smiled at the red-faced sleeping infant with sparse, dark hair standing straight up from her narrow head -- her soft skull would assume a more rounded shape now that she'd made it safely through the birth canal. 

He dozed for an undetermined amount of time, until a soft chirrup and the voice of Commander Riker brought him fully awake. "Bridge to captain."

"Number One," he exclaimed happily. "Report."

"We were ambushed by two ships -- sections of the ship on decks six through eight were without power for a while. Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes. I've been stuck in a lift. I'm going to sickbay now. Thank you. Picard out. Computer, deck ten." He nudged Deanna a couple of times with his elbow. "Going to sickbay, Deanna. Wake up."

She accepted his help in getting to her feet, and her wincing progress down the corridor was painful to watch. As expected when they went in they were swarmed, Ogawa taking the baby and Beverly and the other nurse on duty helping Deanna over to a biobed. He went to another one and lay down for another nap.

He opened his eyes when a hand shook his shoulder, and gazed up at Beverly. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. So is the baby. She told me you helped her deliver -- you are an amazing man, Jean-Luc Picard," the doctor exclaimed with a shake of the head and a smile. "I should have you help us out when we're delivering babies."

"I hit my head when the power went out," he said, not wanting to respond to the rest. He knew the exam would take the attention away from his sudden ability to deliver babies.

By the time Beverly diagnosed him with a bump on the head and gave him an analgesic, Deanna was gone, to her quarters to clean up and begin the adventure of motherhood. He decided to go to his own, to have something to eat and ponder. There would be time later to talk, or visit the baby -- he knew where a new mother's focus would be, likely for a long time to come.


	6. Ignition

Picard waited two days, and finally went to Deanna's door -- he had been on leave as he'd intended and wore slacks and a drab gray shirt instead of a uniform. Will had given him regular reports despite his being on leave so he knew that the repairs were well under way, warp engines would be back on line within twenty-four hours, and then they would be heading for the starbase where Deanna's mother was eagerly waiting to meet her grandchild.

The _Nova_  had been located -- the vessel had been attacked as they had and limped herself back to a starbase, her speed limited by damage to the engines, the comms and other systems had gone down, so no real rescue was needed after all. The attacking vessels weren't even Cardassian; contact with the Cardassian Empire by Starfleet Command had resulted in assurances that they were not crossing the Demilitarized Zone but there were pirates in the area, making raids in the zone and to either side of it, and promises were made that any further information as to their identity and potential affiliation would be shared. The _Enterprise_  had destroyed one, the other had been damaged but ran before they could be disabled, and so the mission had gone awry. Not, thank goodness, in a way that resulted in loss of life.

When Deanna opened the door, she greeted him with a smile -- she wore something loose and flowing that looked like red velour, with gold at some of the seams on the sleeves. "Come in," she exclaimed.

"It's good to see you're feeling better. I hope you've recovered?" He followed her into her smaller living area, and looked down into the crib sitting on the floor at the end of the couch. "Nice to see you again, young lady," he said as the baby blinked up at him with pale gray eyes. "May I?"

"Of course." 

The baby was, he noticed as he carefully slipped his hands beneath her, wearing one of the soft pastel colored outfits he'd given her at the shower. Little hands flailed, and spit bubbled out of tiny lips. A quite-audible fart resulted in a minute whiff of odor. 

"How are you feeling?" He brought the baby with him and sat down on the couch.

"Beverly did away with the soreness and residual pain. She said there wasn't much to be done about the weariness -- it goes with a baby not yet on a particular sleep schedule."

"Yes, that does change eventually, though not soon enough," he said, studying the little girl in his arms. "She's beautiful."

Deanna didn't answer. He finally looked up and found she'd perched on the end of the couch nervously, watching him. She shrugged. "I should have asked you to be my birth coach," she said sadly.

"If you had asked I would have sent a resume. Perhaps you'll let me babysit once in a while?"

She blinked rapidly -- tears, he thought, and he went back to looking at the baby. "Why were you so agitated, before I got in the lift with you?"

"I discovered that something I assumed to be true was not true." Picard touched the soft, soft cheek. Now that the baby was a couple of days old and clean, he could see she was as fair skinned as her mother. The short hair was now curly and dry.

When he looked again, Deanna was quietly staring at the floor between her feet. 

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she confessed, starting to wring her hands. 

"Can I help?"

She sighed, her head tilting, and he wondered if this would be a good time to talk to her with more candor. The baby was doing well enough. Morry seemed to have put on a little weight already, and was in all ways what he would expect a two-day-old to be. Deanna seemed to feel better, moved like herself again without the waddle and the wincing. Just the melancholy was left.

"Is it about me?"

She stared at him and the odd expression was back. Calculating, he thought. Assessing.

"You shouldn't worry about me," he said.

"I think you're forgetting my job?" she replied archly, with dark humor.

"Not at all. I am perhaps not indestructible, but have sufficient experience in matters of the heart to know what those choices are, and I'm certain you understand that I am capable of working with someone for whom I have feelings until those are resolved or requited." She had of course been aboard from the beginning. She would have sensed, though she had never mentioned, his feelings for Beverly -- which had waxed and waned, as feelings do, until they were apparently gone. They were after all a holdover from years gone by, when his best friend's wife was safely beyond his reach and easy to fantasize about.

"I suppose so," she said faintly. A rueful smile came and went -- she looked at him finally, shrugging a little. "It doesn't sound as though I need to say very much."

"You could explain why you were too terrified to talk to me about it."

Deanna stood and moved closer, sitting next to him but not quite touching him, hands in her lap. Her hair was more voluminous than he remembered. That could be a side effect of pregnancy, as Beverly had mentioned before. "I thought it would ruin everything. I like working here on the _Enterprise_. And I'm not sure I could work with someone who knows how I feel about him, and returned those feelings and yet did not want to do or say anything about them."

"I didn't know. I would think I saw signs -- something you would say, a look on your face -- and I continually discounted them because why would you, and there was the matter of hormones. As Beverly explained dozens of times to Data or Geordi or anyone else around, every time you started crying, pregnancy causes all kinds of emotions to run riot, and the odd reaction shouldn't be taken too seriously."

"You were afraid I wasn't really in love with you," she summarized. "It was just hormones? It could still be, I suppose."

"But I would expect that you would know better than Beverly how you feel."

Morry opened her eyes and grimaced, and started to wriggle around. Deanna took her back from him and pulled the front of the dress -- robe? -- out from her breast, tucked the baby's head in, and let her start feeding. 

"Will tried to tell me I should be honest with you long ago. If I'm honest with myself... in hindsight, I know that going to that clinic was an impulse based in my conviction that I couldn't approach you about my feelings." As she spoke, she watched her daughter instead of looking at him. 

"You're saying that you made an irrational choice, to have a baby, because -- oh, Counselor."

She rolled her eyes, looking at the ceiling, and leveled a frustrated look at him. "As if I weren't embarrassed by it enough."

Picard chuckled at this situation, and shook his head, putting his arm across her shoulders and pulling her closer. "It really isn't a problem to keep her, you know. As long as the next one we have is a boy."

She stared at him, but instead of another odd expression, smiled slowly, happily, and let her head fall against his shoulder. He smiled as well, and the last shred of anxiety dissipated. 

"Of course," Deanna said after a long silence, "we'll have to survive my mother."

"Just another mission."

Her sigh of relief was audible. "Okay."

"So you believe me now, that I can handle it?"

"I do."

"It took a lot, but it's nice to know I've finally earned your trust," he commented, failing at being amused to no end by his own wit.

"And you did it with such humility," she replied with more sarcasm than he'd ever heard from her.

He smirked, and turned his head to look at her -- they smiled at each other. "Maybe you know me a little too well...."

"Not yet." Her smile, and her tone, softened. "But I'm glad I have a chance at knowing you better."

"That will of course be entirely on your schedule."

She seemed to relax leaning against him, as she watched the baby let go. She picked up Morry and gently patted until the wet little burp bubbled up, and settled again with the baby in her arms. "Thank you for helping me -- I've never been so terrified in my life."

"Neither have I. That's why I was so calm."

Deanna sighed. "Starship captains."

"Indeed."


End file.
